"Em--bad!" he said solemnly. He flung away the half smoked cigar, chose another and nervously turned it in his fingers. "So I'd sized it up--well, we all get it. Why? Lord love me, of all I've watched and stirred up, that's what gets me--why a damned clever girl like you, or a cold-headed old son-of-a-gun like me should ever fall--I'm sorry, kid! Are you going to make a fool of yourself?" "I don't know, Blainey," she said, shrugging her shoulders. She had a feeling, all at once, of confidence in his rough common sense. "That's queer. I thought you were too keen!" He was thinking of Sassoon, wondering if she would throw away such an opportunity for a short romance. "Some youngster, eh?--without a cent--talking big!" He lighted the cigar and puffed it reflectively. "Kid, we Americans are a bunch of damned fools. Sentiment's our middle name! Why should I hand you a line of talk? Haven't I fallen for it a dozen times? Yes, and ready to begin all over again! We've got to love some one, or we get to wabbling!" He looked at her, and again he thought of Sassoon, and what the situation might yield. He wanted to be honest with her, to give her good advice according to his lights. "So that's why you shot off to Buffalo, eh?" he said, with a long whistle. "Bad theory! Stay by it; see the fellow ten times a day--that sometimes cures. Say, I'm going to hand you the truth like a Dutch uncle! You've got things going your way; you've got the whole game before you, cinched." He hesitated. "Sassoon, ready to back you to the limit, opportunity, money backing; you know the place."... He waved contemptuously at the warring world of the Rialto below--"And you know the game. Sassoon's good for thousands--in your hands. And then, there's the advertisement! Don't lose your head over a couple of square shoulders!" She did not set him right. For her purposes she preferred that he should entirely misconceive her. She allowed him to go on, volunteering his worldly, well meant advice. "All you say is true," she said finally, with an indefinable smile. "Blainey, I've always said I would make up my mind at twenty-three. Be patient. It may be sooner!" "Wish I could take twenty-five years off my back," he said slowly, without rising. "Take your time--take your time; and if you get weepy, come in and use my shoulder. Understand?" He rang the bell, waved his hand cheerily and watched her until she disappeared. She went, strongly impressed by his kindness, half inclined impulsively to return and begin in earnest. She had gone directly to him from the station. Now she returned to Miss Pim's. When she was back once more in her own room, the sensation of homecoming was so acute that she could have sat down in the middle of the floor and cried for joy. But in another moment Ida Summers rushed in.